


For the Want of an Unction

by JuhosPemmifer



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Hallucinations, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23771101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuhosPemmifer/pseuds/JuhosPemmifer
Summary: Geralt knew that it wasn't the right choice and he shouldn't have listened to Dandelion, but he did. And it was worthy of a song.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	For the Want of an Unction

“Geralt, slow down.” Dandelion squirmed under the taller and more muscular witcher and tried not to whine too much. “You're going to tear me in half.”

“Hm.” It could have been a disappointed sound, but you could never be sure when it came to witchers. He pulled back with a frown, too aroused to be truly annoyed.

“I’m sure we can figure something out!” Dandelion propped himself on his elbows when the burning pain in his rear eased. He wasn’t going to give up now or wait any longer. He had wanted this so long, and if they would now stop the chances to end up in this same situation would be near zero. That tragedy would create beautiful and heartbreaking songs, but Dandelion didn’t want his heart to be truly broken. “We only need something to slick your way in.”

Geralt looked a bit nauseated. “We are in the middle of nowhere, only trees, monsters and rocks everywhere.”

“Oh come on!” Dandelion moved his hips and managed to coax a groan out of the witcher. “You must have something. You have all of those scary and dangerous witcher concoctions with you.”

“Those are dangerous for humans,” Geralt’s forehead wasn’t as smooth as usual and Dandelion wondered if he could steal a kiss from Geralt’s unhappily frowned lips.

“I’m not going to drink it or anything,” Dandelion tilted his head and smiled. “One of them must be something thick and disgusting that is perfect for this, and you’ll avoid having to drink something so repulsive.”

“I’m not sure—”

“So let me be sure for you!” Dandelion reached to wrap his fingers around one of the most impressive members he had ever had the honor to see. He wasn’t used to touching other men, at least not this kind, but his reputation wasn’t for nothing.

Geralt still looked hesitant, but it seemed that his patience was running thin too. 

Dandelion felt a grin on his lips when the witcher turned to dig up his potions though he had to let go of Geralt’s cock. All of his humble hints weren’t going to be for nothing. It took way too long, but the bard was going to keep his lips together until Geralt would find what he was looking for. There was still the small possibility that Geralt would figure that this was a bad decision.

When the witcher turned back with a small bottle, Dandelion couldn’t suppress his laugh. “Do you know what that looks like? Something that is the result of sex, not something that is used to make it possible in the first place. Do you drink things like that? Really?”

Geralt glared at Dandelion from under his brows and didn’t answer. Dandelion was going to continue, he just couldn’t let this be —  _ he could write a song about this! _ — and he was too giddy to notice how Geralt had poured the white, thick fluid on his fingers.

“What’s that called? Moon butter? White relief? Witcher’s—” Dandelion didn’t have time to say what the third option would be when two big fingers pressed inside him and changed the words into a whimper. It hurt and burned, but it was easier like this. It didn’t feel as if his insides were violated. It wasn’t bad. It was actually quite nice when the fingers moved and spread the potion more inside him.

“Better?”

“Much better,” Dandelion giggled and laid back on his back. It was going so much better than he could have hoped, this was just right. “It feels like you’ve done this before, you charmer.”

“Hm.” Dandelion could see Geralt’s expression on the insides of his eyelids though he didn’t even look at him.

The sweet heat was crawling on Dandelion’s skin, it spread and tickled. It could have been comfortable if it didn’t burn his insides too much, if he wasn’t sweating this much, if he could still feel his limbs…

Geralt might have said something, but the bard was too far, too high, and it felt as if his skin was freezing.

* * *

“I’ve always wanted to meet you, Lady Geralt.” 

_ Oh, wait. _ Geralt’s mother’s name couldn’t be  _ Geralt_. 

“I apologize, Lady Rivia.” Dandelion smiled charmingly and accompanied his words with a few chords from his lute. “I knew you had to be the perfect clam because your son is such a pearl.”

* * *

Geralt groaned and tried to make Roach run faster. He had thought that he’d have the whole trip to reason why Dandelion was stricken because he had potion, only meant for witchers, in his ass, and could be dying because of it. He needed to have a good reason so a healer would agree to help and not laugh them out escorted out by an angry mob of peasants armed with torches and pitchforks.

But with Dandelion nothing worked as Geralt thought. The bard was apparently hallucinating, and the things he was saying really made Geralt’s mind too confused to think about anything else.

* * *

“Your son always makes me so warm that I thought his mother would be a forge. But you, you’re as hot as the sun itself.” 

For once Dandelion’s audience seemed to love his words. This woman would have been just what Dandelion wanted if he didn’t already know the one person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“But I had a reason why I wanted to meet you. Though your mere presence is almost enough for me.” Dandelion knew just the right melody for those words, and his loot smiled with him. “I am here to ask for the hand of your son.”

* * *

Geralt spewed the water he was drinking out of his mouth and wondered if he’d choke and die like this. Witchers don’t die of old age in their beds, but they weren’t supposed to be shocked to death either. Probably.

He coughed until he couldn’t breathe and almost fell off Roach.

* * *

“What is this fatuity, my lady?!” Dandelion moved his hand on his heart and gasped. That woman had already promised Geralt to the  _ Lodge of Sorceresses. _ “You can’t marry Geralt to all of them! Do you know what they'll do to your son? They aren’t only powerful women; they are the Lodge of Thotceresses!”

* * *

Geralt wondered if it would be better to let Dandelion die. Then Geralt might be able to forget the words Dandelion said with a clear, but a bit drunk voice while leaning against the witcher’s chest.

Geralt shook his head. He could never forget. It would be better if Dandelion would stay alive and take responsibility for his hallucinations. Though if Dandelion won’t remember them, Geralt wasn’t going to repeat those words, not even with the more neutral tone than one the bard used.

At least the nearest city and the healer was closer with every step Roach took. Geralt hoped that the bard would stop talking before that, though it was a good sign that he was still alive.

* * *

“You need to understand,” Dandelion stressed every word, “that Geralt doesn’t want to end up in the clutches of those vapid vultures. It isn’t right! They’ll devour him to the bone, snap them in half and suck out the marrow!”

Dandelion coaxed a few chords out of his lute, a sad and longing melody.

“Geralt is so juicy and perfect for groping, just as if his mother was an orange,” Dandelion tilted his head and moved his weight from one leg to another so his hip swayed. “I know what he wants. Or at least I’m ready to learn!”

Dandelion leaned closer and batted his eyelashes. He couldn’t let his hopes to slip between his fingers and disappear.

“Won’t you give me a chance? I’ll prove myself.”

* * *

Dandelion opened his eyes and it was dark, but he wasn’t cold. His limbs were stiff and mouth dry, and his tailbone ached as if he’d ridden too long and in a bad position. He couldn’t remember what had happened or how he had ended up here.

“Geralt?” Dandelion whispered to the darkness. At least he remembered how he had been with the witcher, trying to wrap him around his little finger…

“You’re awake. Good.” It was Geralt, his voice just as raspy as always.

Dandelion sat up and waved his arms in front of him until his fingers bumped to the witcher. “What happened? It’s as if I’m forgetting something…”

Geralt cleared his throat. “An accident. But you are fine now.”

“Accident?!” Dandelion perked up. The songs about personal tragedies were the best, and now it was over and he didn’t even have to fear for his life. “I need all the details!”

“...You got poisoned.”

Well. That sounded dull. Dandelion needed to come up with something more interesting. “Did something bite me? Or was it just something I ate?” The first one would still work in the song.

“You don’t really remember?” Geralt sounded incredulous. It had to be something good if Geralt didn’t want to talk about it!

“I don’t. Tell me, Geralt! It’s only fair, I was sick!”

“You got under the effect of the potion.” Geralt sounded guilty and tired. “One of mine. And it was just as bad as I feared it would be.”

Well. That was… exciting subject. Perfect drama that people would love. 

Dandelion pushed his blanket aside so he could dig up his notes, but he realized that he was naked. It wasn’t like the healers could do their work for the clothed people in every case, but they were alone, and Dandelion wasn’t wearing  _ anything_. It was way too good a chance to throw it away. He could ask more questions later. 

Dandelion swallowed the lump from his throat. “Would you come here to warm me?”

The sound Geralt let out could have been a laugh, but Dandelion had to have heard wrong. Maybe he was still ill because of the potion.

**Author's Note:**

> I was never supposed to write this, but... I did. I apologize and hope that the stupid jokes didn't make you cry.


End file.
